July 27, 2007

Heart felt angst
Wells up inside,
Tightening
Its spring
Until it bursts
As hairball
Tumble,
Landing flat
Upon the twisted ire
Of a life long loss.

To voice a goodbye
Free falls away
Favouring fate
That follows
Endings of uncrossed paths.
This thought, again replayed –
Is layed out in full,
Brushed with care,
And cradled for a time.
Turned, and again checked for its emotional ID.

Unlike fe-lines
Our kind, cannot predict
The seasons as once we did.
Nor, pre-empt such unseen loss.
Not being there could not be helped.
Cleo waited as long as she could,
Hung her thanks
Upon the decades of love, woven right around the house,
And heeded the call of her origin –
Returning home, one last time.

What she would’ve liked,
Was for all to recall
That, were it not for this family
Of open hearts
And unchecked time,
Trust would not have transformed from bud to bloom –
And 26 years
Of connected
Sighs, laughs and affection felt,
Could not have come to pass.

This Schrödinger’s cat was truly alive –
Thanks to the few who stepped up to the task,
Peered into the box,
And on tip-toes, pulled her little self into their lives.
She was that lifetime plaque
Of reciprical commitments,
Often drapped around the necks of the Decent,
And there could be no regrets
About such an arrangement,
Now could there.

July 8, 2007

Having brought down the judgement of order,
A dandy lion fairy
Asserts her ruling over the mindless intellect,
Rounding it up
And whipping routine out of chaos,
Her innocent face
Takes on the scowl of a demon.
Sweet irony however,
Is lost
On those in servitude,
For the struggle to capture creativity backfires
Causing their muse to skip away ever faster,
Fearful of the clock-in creature
Of nine to five,
That leans hard and suffocates,
Obscuring vision and drowning out inspirational sweat.
Were one
To destroy all clocks,
A symphony of wonder
Would fill one’s mind,
And chorus such Art
As never before seen.
Instead,
The demented cherub
Taps away the seconds of the day,
Upon the brow,
Of those
Who would be king
And blindly strive
To inherit the throne of Shakespeare.

In role
Us – the Outsiders,
Witness their ‘fade away’
As another torso
Is lost to the faceless crowd
Of sensibility.
Thank goodness, these brothers and sisters
Have a place to call home – the Mall.
Without it,
I shudder at the thought of their fate.